Diaphanous
by I fell asleep
Summary: I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place. (OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG)
1. The Fall

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

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**1\. The Fall**

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When I was younger, my mother told me many things.

History, fiction, tall-tales and lies, all molded carefully and woven delicately into a story that would fascinate me. I remember soaking up all of her words like a sponge and demanding her, in all my childish glory, for her to continue or make a new one. True or false didn't matter to the young me, because my mother told the best stories. I didn't want to give up on that, so I asked her to carry on as I focused as hard as I could on her.

But then, one day, she stopped telling me her stories.

I didn't know why, but she was always in bed, always wore a thin line on her face. At that time, I couldn't help but liken it to one of the many drawings the kids at my school would draw; a stickman with a line for a mouth. I didn't get it why people did that, on their face or on paper, because I always drew with smiles, not frowns. The younger me thought that lines were terribly ugly and icky. She thought that they were sad, because they couldn't go whichever way they wanted, because there was no turn, no curve, nothing. It was either left or right, up or down.

One day, my mother told me this.

"Humans are so fragile," she said, this time her lips no longer a line, but a down curved, hideous thing full of creases and wrinkles. Suddenly, mother became so, so ugly and I didn't even know why. "Delicate, actually. We're all so easy to break, just like glass figurines. Drop them a few centimeters off the ground and they become tiny shattered pieces no one can fix."

I realized, that mother was no longer "mother", but just a scary woman who lived with me. The fact that she always had this strange darkness surrounding her, the fact that everyone else ignored it but me. It would wrap itself tightly around her, like an uncomfortable blanket and it was especially tight when she held the photo that had my father in it. When she gazed into the man that I never knew, the darkness would no longer wrap, but strangle her.

When it happened, she would break things. Break the plates, the cups, the windows and everything in the house that was breakable.

It made me fear her.

_I was scared_, because I knew that she would eventually run out of things to break. There would be a day, where everything in the house would be beyond fixing and since she never stopped, she would continue breaking.

_**I was scared**_, because this was not the mother I loved, the mother who would tell me stories when I asked.

If humans were glass figurines, I would break ten times easier than the glass cup I used to pour my orange juice in.

**_I was scared_**, because this woman, would eventually break me.

This person, this scary woman, was the monster that chased me in my nightmares.

One day, the woman stopped. It's not that she stopped telling stories, or breaking things, because I was used to the strange timings of what she named as her "resting hours". No, this was... I didn't know how to describe it. She stopped moving about and just like a sick animal, she instead laid in her bed, her body going in a strange_ up-down-up-down_ rhythm and her breaths coming out in puffs, like from the train I saw on telly.

Then, she would vomit this sticky red puddle and she would ask me to bring her more booze and coke, though at that time, I didn't know what they were. Sometimes, she'd switch it up a bit by asking me to bring her vodka and some funny pink pills. I hated the times when she asked me to bring her the pointy thing though.

But I enjoyed the peace of this time, because it was so quiet. She didn't shout at me and I think I was happy that she didn't.

One day, the woman **completely** stopped.

I didn't understand, so I continued with the routine.

Clean up the house, clear the glass shards (not that there were any of them on the ground anymore), sweep the dust, wash the clothes (by dunking them in water and then drying them), open the windows to let some fresh air in, etcetera, etcetera. Since the woman stopped moving too, I started cleaning her as well. It was no different when she knocked herself out and I was left with puddles of vomit and sweat to clean. I didn't like doing it, but I didn't want her to get mad at me, you see.

One day, some funny people knocked on the door. They were the police but at that time, young me didn't know. But she did thought that their clothes were cool, like a super hero's outfit. That's why I let them in, because they didn't look like the bad guys.

"Hello, young lady." the tallest greeted and I greeted back, because it was the polite thing to do. "Can we come in?"

I nodded, opening the door for them. I didn't mind, because I knew that bad guys didn't have manners. They're called bad guys for a reason, you know. So these people must be the nice guys.

"Little girl, where's your mum?" one of them asked.

Young me thought that he had a really cool mustache, but at that time, I didn't say it. When my mother was still my mother, she would tell me not to speak my mind, because I might make someone upset. I didn't like making someone unhappy.

"Upstairs." I said as I pointed at the stairs with my index finger. I didn't like thinking that the scary woman was my mother, but she would be mad at me as well for not telling others that she is my mother. Was this counted as a white lie, if I lied to protect myself from her fists? I hope so, because I didn't like to lie. "She's stopped."

"Stopped?" another questioned. "What do you mean?"

Like a student in class who was asked by the teacher to answer a question, I was excited to give the correct answer, because I knew it.

"I'll show you!" I smiled.

When we reached to her room, one of them kicked open the door and found the sight before them, all of them looked sick. One of them, I think the one who's the youngest, considering that he was the most nervous, darted to the living room and I heard sounds. I think he was vomiting.

"She's stopped for a while now." I answered, not knowing the growing horror of the men around me. "I dunno how to wake her, but I just clean up whenever the room smells bad. She'll get mad-" and then my hands went to cover my mouth, because I wasn't supposed to say it.

"Oh dear god," one of them muttered, his hand reaching for this black thing at his belt. I looks like the walkie-talkie this boy in my class has. "This is Unit 1 and we have an emergency-"

Later on, they asked me for the "full story". I didn't want to tell them, because she would get super crazy angry mad and I didn't want that. Then one of them told me that I would be able to get a nice hot bath with bubbles and spaghetti, so I told them.

I haven't had a nice bath in a while, since the heater didn't work anymore and I never had one with bubbles. I really wanted to try it. There was also spaghetti, which I have never eaten before. She wouldn't allow it, since it made the darkness wrap around her.

When they told me she was dead for three weeks, I didn't know how to feel.

It was strange but I knew why.

When I was younger, my mother never told stories about heroes dying, or dying in general.

. . .

Life wasn't so great after that.

I was going through the system one too many times, because no one wanted to permanently take care of the "weird kid whose mother committed suicide". The adults would often look at me with pity in their eyes, or sometimes, disgust and rejection. Sometimes, they couldn't stand looking at me at all.

The young me didn't get it. Why were they so mean to me, when I didn't even talk to them?

_They were the ones being weird, not me, never me_, was a reoccurring thought in my head. I wholeheartedly believed them, because they were the ones staring, spiting and whispering. I did none of those, yet they never listened and continued like I was the loony one.

Gradually, as I grew older, I realized many things. I was a child of death and no one wanted someone who had been so close to death, to be a part of their families. They didn't want a stain to be so close to their precious, dearest, clean people. I also learned that the woman, who was supposed to be my mother, was crazy. Or, at least everyone thought she was. She had been doing many bad things, like drinking, being high, being abusive, etcetera, etcetera.

I finally knew, that the woman I feared so much, was the one in the wrong. I wasn't particularly joyful or grief-stricken at the discovery. I was merely apathetic, because I didn't really love her after she became just "the woman". I lost all the love I harbored for her and it was not like I replaced it with fury or hatred. It was like misplacing a key and never really wanting to find it back, because you can't be bothered by the loss.

This was how I felt.

The doctor who told me to lie down on the sofa told me that her death had a big impact on my mentality. He said that by being apathetic, by acting that it was never a loss in the first place, I was coping. He said that what I was doing, whatever it was, was a coping mechanism.

I honestly don't get why I'm the one who's on the sofa, because I think he's the one insane.

But I guess he's right about the impact it had on me. After all that, it was hard to muster up any care for another human being. Like a loved toy thrown away to become a replacement doll, I guess it perfectly described me. I was full, I was perfect, I was okay, once upon a time. Now, I'm just as broken as the rest of the unwanted toys stuffed in boxes and chests.

I think that it was then I realized the world stopped.

So I stopped too, by climbing to heaven and falling off from it.

. . .

I didn't remember what happened after.

All I remember drifting off and suddenly I was caged in some warm prison. I would kick and kick the weird walls to try to escape. It never worked, but that didn't mean I would stop trying.

I wondered how I ever got to wherever I was. I thought I was falling and everything, including me, would got "splat" and I would become nothing. Why didn't I break like any other glass figurine you could find?

Once again, I didn't understand.

Then I was finally free from the prison, but it was so hard to get out. It was strange, especially when there was so much hot goo and breathing walls. It felt like someone was sucking me in through a tiny straw.

But instead of in, I went out.

It never really came to my mind that I never did stop falling.

I couldn't stop the yawn and oddly enough, I sucked in air that felt very cold and foreign and started screaming.

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**A/N**: Please review and tell me what you thought about the beginning. It'd be much appreciated. ^^


	2. A Mother's Love

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

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**2\. A Mother's Love**

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When times were peaceful and the woman I came to fear in the future was still my beloved mother, there was one thing she kept from me.

She didn't purposely lie or create a story for me to distract me either. All she did, when I asked her about it, was brushing me off and acted as if I never asked in the first place. She pretended, just like those tiny people in the tiny metal box who played their roles. She was like the sock puppet who didn't know what to do without the hand that guided them.

In other words, she played the silly fool and I, the demanding king.

I persisted and continuously asked her, like the young, naive, insensitive little girl I was. I didn't understand, so I had to ask until I got my answer. After all, she was the one who taught me that if I didn't know something at school, I should ask the teacher. This meant that if I didn't know something at home, I would ask my mother, who was the oldest, as well as the only person in the house other than me and the dead guppy I buried in the backyard.

It's not like I could ask the dead cat in the black bin either, you know.

"Mummy, mummy, what is dying?" I asked her and I stared in fascination as she flinched once again. She always looked like a scared animal whenever I tried to talk about this topic. "Mummy, please tell me. I want to know." I tugged her blue dress, uncaring of the wrinkles and creases I made on it.

My mother didn't need a dress to be pretty like the other ladies I see in the neighborhood. Mother was already pretty without the dress and without putting crayons on her face. She had the most beautiful smile in the world, the bluest eyes and the brightest yellow shade for hair. The itty bitty spots that dotted her face stood out like white against black, but it didn't make her more hideous, but much more prettier. It made her stand out, it made her special. My mother was beautiful and special, unlike the other women who were boring and similar.

It was one of the things I didn't understand as well, but I never asked after that one time I hid her boxes of colors and crayons when she refused to answer me. She cried and cried and her face became very red and splotchy. When she cried, she broke more things too.

"Mummy, why won't you tell me?" I tugged her dress harder this time, not noticing the way my mother's eyes narrowed and her lips set in a thin line. "Mummy, please-"

Then, my mother grabbed my arm in a way that hurt really badly.

Her fingers were not the ones that helped me brush my hair whenever I lost the comb or the one that comforted me when there was thunder. They were the fingers that did not belong to mother, but a monster. Mother's fingernails, the ones I remarked as simple and neat, suddenly became demonic and frightening, as they dug into my skin. Digging and sinking, deeper and deeper. It made my skin itch and hurt, as well as causing it to become pink until the red came out.

"You know mummy doesn't like to talk about this." she smiled and I could tell, that the smile looked like it was made from dirt with clumsy hands. When my mother smiled, the whole room lit up and the sun rose. This smile could scare the moon and bring the ghosts from beneath. Her hand clenched tighter around my stick thin arm and I bit my lip to stop myself from crying.

"You know how mummy feels about this, don't you, sweetie?"

One of her sharp, monstrous nails scratched against my skin until the red dyed her nail, as if it were nail polish. My eyes widened from the pain, but my mouth was as tight as a closed zip.

"So, mummy doesn't want you to talk about this anymore." she said, almost in a whisper and I nodded slowly, fearfully. Her voice was almost sweet like dripping honey, but I knew that it was poisoned. Dirty and dark like the poison my mother used to kill the icky rats. "Do you understand?"

I nodded, like the obedient little girl I was supposed to be.

"Do you love mummy?"

I nodded, just the way she wanted me to.

"Then _don't_ ask again, _okay?"_

I nodded, because this time, I understood true fear.

I never did ask anything else after that.

. . .

One day, I realized, that there wasn't two, but three things she never did tell me about.

She didn't tell me that she loved me, up until the day she stopped; the day she "died".

. . .

My new "mother", not-mother, was very strange.

This woman had long, smooth black hair tied up into a side braid and dark brown eyes just like the chocolate I always liked to have for a snack at midnight. She didn't like wearing long dresses like how my mother was so fond of, but wore things that were more practical and formal, like a button up and pants. She didn't stay at home for the rest of the day and was off to work until the evening, when she came and picked me up from school. It was nice, but it was a foreign experience for me.

If I had to compare the both of them, this woman was like the sea and my mother was the sky.

Not-mother had a more serene nature and the sound of her voice always made me fall asleep, just like the ocean waves and the seashells from the beach. She listened to whatever I had to ask and always answered no matter how ridiculous the questions were. Just like how water could not hold a shape, she never held me in a tight grip. Instead, like how water surrounds a person, she surrounds me, by embracing me lovingly.

My mother was the sky, because her temperaments were like the weather. If the sky was happy, the sun would be shining and the world would be bright. If the sky was sad, the sky would rain. If the sky was angry, there would be thunderstorms and lightning. Just like the weather, she could never control her moods and I couldn't tell when there would be sunshine, rain or thunder. They were erratic and scary and sometimes, they hurt me.

Not-mother, however, would smile at me without reason and would never command me to take her things for her.

She would give me whatever I wanted and cooked whatever I wished to eat.

She would tie my hair, the bright yellow now an inky black, using different hairstyles every day and would hold my hand when we crossed the roads.

She took me wherever I wanted and taught me whatever I was curious about.

She stayed up with me on Fridays to watch late night cartoons and always prepared caramel popcorn.

She never broke things when she got angry.

Not-mother was different. Nicer, smarter, calmer and happier than my mother. She was the perfect mother that I remember children liked to dream about, back when I was still part of the system and stuck in a cold place many forced me to call "home".

But in the end, she was still not my mother, like my mother.

I remember the man who told me to lie on the sofa and to talk about my feelings, telling me that I gained a condition called "apathy". He said that I could not feel like normal people and I could not experience emotions like concern, excitement, motivation or passion. The man said that I most likely have suppressed the emotions "concern", because I could not express any worry when someone injures themselves or when someone is missing from my life. I was skeptical at first, because I thought the one who was insane was the doctor.

There was one thing, though, that I would never be able to suppress in my entire life, because it was a basic human emotion and a basic instinct instilled since a being's coming into a world. Even animals had it and no one taught them that.

Fear, for I did not know what was love.

Not-mother always tells me that she loves me, because I am her daughter, her precious baby girl, her little darling. She tells me how much she loves me, she tells me how her love for me is measured and tells me that she loves me _unconditionally._ No matter what wrong I do or I refuse her, she says that she will **_love me and love me and love me and love me_**.

What is a mother's love?

I don't understand and when I ask her, I still get the same answer, so I never ask again, even though I cannot wrap my head around this idea. This concept is strange, as strange as not-mother and thus, this is why I may never understand what she means, when she says, "I love you".

Out of the blue, I say out loud as she prepares dinner, bustling about in the clean kitchen that I never had to clean ever again. Like washing the plates, getting rid of the soap from the sink or pick up the broken pieces of various broken things from the floor with my bare hands.

"I don't think I can ever love you."

I stare at her, with a face as empty as a blank canvas waiting for an artist to use it. My face held no emotion and it was as if I was a stone sculpture, stuck with a lifeless look forever until time took me way to beyond life.

She doesn't look shocked, doesn't flinch or even mildly frightened.

Instead, she gives me a weird smile and I can't help but note that my stomach feels very empty and cold, but not from being hungry.

"I know, but I still love you."

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**A/N**: Thoughts/feedback/constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. ^^ Please leave a review, it would make me very happy.

Thanks to** inari (guest)** for reviewing the previous chapter!


	3. Order of Priority

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

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**3\. Order of Priority  
**

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School is an odd place, but not something foreign to me.

The resonating loudness of the room, the jovial, scream-like laughter in the playground, the teachers' reluctance in handling hyperactive, sugar high children and the naivety of said children are all factors I have long associated with school. I never expected it to be different, for I am not that wishful. In fact, it is because I know that children are the same wherever you go.

They are like the knights not-mother often reads to me from fairytale books for bedtime. They have no metal armor to protect themselves, because they have a strong weapon in their arsenal that acts as their attacker and shield. It is a javelin that is sharp at its tip like wasp's sting and barbs of a vicious porcupine. So easy to hurt others with, but a single wrong move will cause the barbs to prick its wielder.

Words wielded so cruelly and actions so carelessly made.

This is what children do.

Maybe it was rather gullible of me to think that these unknown, alien children will not bother me for I am no longer "that girl". Pale skin, bright yellow replaced with hair as black as the abyss, hazelnut brown eyes now almost as clear as water and a face free of blemishes. There is no mother who has left the world with gruesome means, because this woman did not exist in the life I currently led.

I believed that no one would disturb me now that I didn't have anything that would interest them, but I was stupid to think like that, I know now.

Perhaps I was right about children being the same wherever you went. They would try to claw at your defenses and when the slightest crack appeared, their hands dived in mercilessly to rip it open to find out what was inside the hard outer shell. Just like ripping open a Christmas present, this was no different.

"Hey, hey, Hima-chan," I looked up and saw a girl with twin pony tails tied up with obnoxious polka-dotted ribbons. She was such a pest. "Why don't you play with us? We've invited you so many times and yet you continue to be mean to us!" she pouted and I couldn't help but note that she looked like a goldfish with humongous lips.

I never remembered any of these girls' names. I could hardly care about those who could not keep their distance and could not read the heavy layers in the air. I never asked for them to come near me and I never asked to "play" with them, so why do they keep coming to me like flies to the nearest source of light?

Another one took the place of the pouting ringleader. It was a girl with no unique features, but her white dress full of black stripes made her stand out. "Yeah, Hima-chan, we're tryin' ta be nice ta ya." She huffed haughtily and stomped her tiny foot onto the soft patch of grass. I was confused. Why was she trying to look like a zebra?

I didn't give them permission to use that nickname either. Only not-mother was allowed to call me that.

"So, er, what are you trying to m-make, uhm, H-Hima-chan...?" the tiniest and shyest of them asked, trying to be less hostile and more friendly, unlike her two other animal friends. But, out of all of them, I didn't like this one the most. She was jittery and ugly like the rats my mother used to hunt down.

Suddenly, the two others' attentions were diverted from the one-sided topic they created and brought onto the paper I was folding in my lap. I ignored the rat girl's question and continued what I was doing in the beginning, breaking eye contact with them in the process.

I could feel the first two girls' eyes trying to burn me with their childish contempt when I didn't pay any heed to their mindless accusations, provoking and questioning. I could hear the rat girl trying to tell her _dear ol' friends_ to _calm down, I-I'm sure Hima-chan i-isn't trying to b-be m-mean_, but from the noise of teeth clacking together and tongue clicking with undertones of annoyance, I knew the rat girl's pleas for peace would go unheard.

The zebra girl is the first one to explode in rage while rat girl shrunk from the sudden change in pitch.

"What, ya think we're not good enough for ya?!" she shouts, high-pitched and unflattering to any pair of ears. Then she sucks in air to shout even more while I remark silently that she is wasting good oxygen for pointless drivel. "Think yer all so smarty pants, sticking yer nose into any book and too princess-y to play, huh? Well, yer just a no good, stuck up princess waitin' for a prince on a white horse!" the corner of her lips pull itself downwards to an ugly frown and I, for the life of me, cannot understand why she insulted me with "princess".

At the mention of prince, goldfish girl springs into action. "Yeah, I can't believe you, _Himawari-hime."_ she singsongs mockingly at me and I still don't understand what they're trying to insinuate. There was nothing offensive about being called a princess. "Think you're- you're all so cool and cute, huh? Just so you know, you can't steal my Ichiro-kun from me."

Was this what is was all about; my apparent "arrogance" and a faceless boy?

Why did goldfish girl claim a living, breathing boy? Could another human being be claimed as an object? Could someone own a human?

Why would ten year olds need ownerships of each other? They weren't responsible at all.

Maybe that's why pets don't live long under the care of children.

"W-why are you just staring at us?" the goldfish girl's voice unexpectedly turned brittle and croaky. I looked up from my folded thighs and noticed the changes. Her confident grin was gone and in its place was a nervous, scared expression. Like a chicken that knew it was heading for the slaughter house. "Y-you freak!" she shrieked as if I was the bogeyman.

They were getting boring, I realized. Their matching animal theme, clashing personalities and spontaneous outbursts did not amuse me anymore. The logical thing I did was save my breath by not replying. There was no point trying to correct fools set in their ways and failed to recognize their errors even if it dangled in front of them.

A hand shot out and into my personal bubble, but I did not show any shock or surprise. It took the completed large origami rose I was making when the animal girls were busy trying to coax me into speaking and the owner of the hand sneered.

"Heh, what's so special 'bout it 'nyways?" So, it was the zebra girl who took it. "Bet yer gonna cry if I _accidentally_ open it." she emphasized and laughed nasally. She may be human, but she was no better than a dumb horse that no one wanted.

Goldfish girl's face instantaneously filled with glee as she hurriedly went to open the folded parts. The rat girl, who had been previously subdued and quiet, went behind the her friends' backs to see the unfolding process.

All of them screamed as zebra girl dropped it like a hot potato and the insides spilled all over the grass.

Well, in a way, the phrase, "curiosity killed the cat" did ring true.

"You freak!" goldfish girl's face was all splotchy with the color red and tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Now she truly did look like the fish many loved to keep in their homes. "You disgusting freak!" she screeched angrily, unable to hold her tears back any longer and started crying.

Dead things and insects always had a strange effect of causing hysterics. The effect was doubled if the two were combined, especially when girls definitely didn't like dead ladybugs and spiders. It was a little unsanitary to kill and collect them, but at least I had a packet of tissues and a bottle of sanitizer with me. The school also provided soap dispensers in the bathrooms, so I didn't have to worry about festering germs.

"Hima-chan is gross!" sobs the pitiful rat girl and I am in disbelief that she still has the gall to use a nickname I never allowed. "Why would you do that?!"

Again, as part of my routine, I didn't answer them. Instead, I stood up, brushed the dirt off my skirt, kicked the flower away and walked towards the school building. The bell would ring soon and I didn't want to be late.

In actuality, I intended that flower for another person, but at least it served its purpose.

After all, they were still bawling.

. . .

"Kurosawa-chan," the class teacher, Nakano-sensei called out as I was about to exit the classroom. I stopped and turned, looking at her. "Can you stay behind for a while? I need to talk to you about something."

I nodded, taking a seat when Nakano-sensei pulled a chair from one of the front tables and gestured for me to sit. We were also not alone in the room, when, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a boy with messy brown hair wearing a black t-shirt, dark green pants and a pair of sneakers. I recognized him as one of my classmates whose face I didn't try to put into memory.

"Not you, Tachibana-kun." she dismissed him casually. I could hear him walk closer to the table. "Tachibana Ichiro-kun, you should listen to your elders when they tell you to do something." she admonished him with a stern look.

Oh, so that's who the goldfish girl's "Ichiro-kun" was.

"But Nakano-sensei, I know that Himawari-chan never gets in trouble," he says, convinced of his own words. I turned around and regarded him strangely. He suddenly grew nervous under my scrutiny and shuffled his feet in response. "And since you never ask any of us to stay behind unless we're in trouble, it means Himawari-chan is called behind for making troubles. But she never does things like that!"

The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Oh really, now?" she said, surprised that this boy would come to my defense. Honestly, I'm surprised too, because we were strangers to each other. "Well, I can be the judge of that and Kurosawa-chan would be the one answering my questions, not you."

He wilted at her words but stayed behind anyways.

"So, Kurosawa-chan," her eyes were back on me. I straightened my position as I focused on her. "Ueno-chan, Hashimoto-chan and Fukui-chan said that you bullied them today during recess. Is that true?"

I shook my head even though their names were completely lost on me but I knew it was goldfish girl, zebra girl and rat girl. "No, Nakano-sensei." I intertwined my fingers together as I continued. "They came up to me, used a nickname that I did not allow them to use and tried to provoke me."

"I didn't answer them, because they were obviously not being nice." I frown, trying to recall what they said to me, but the exact words didn't stick around in my mind. "Then they got mad and ruined the origami flower I was making."

Nakano-sensei took her sweet time to survey whether I was lying or not and I could hear feet shuffling behind me. Then, she said, "They said you put dead bugs inside the flower to scare them."

Well, it's not like they had proof to present to the teacher, did they? The surprise I left for them was scattered all over the ground and the empty, revolting remains of what once was a flower was the only evidence of my involvement.

"That's gross, Nakano-sensei." I said with a look I didn't even have to mimic. It wasn't hard to pull it off, because it was actually sickening to me. "Why would I even do that?"

The boy, Tachibana, joined in on the conversation. "See, sensei, told ya!"

This time, the older woman didn't try to reprimand Tachibana and opted to sigh tiredly. "Well, at the very least I know that they were crying wolf to me, because they didn't give me any proof. Not that they would, because I know girls don't like handling 'icky' things." she chuckled.

"Well, you're free to go, Kurosawa-chan and you, Tachibana-kun, were free to go in the beginning." she dismissed the both of us, making a shooing motion with her hand. "Next time, though, please tell me if they're trying to bully you, okay?"

"Okay, Nakano-sensei." I conceded and bowed. "Goodbye."

"Bye, sensei!" the boy waved and followed me out of the door.

. . .

"See, Himawari-chan, I knew you didn't do anything wrong!" Tachibana exclaimed cheerfully and I am not sure what he's trying to prove by telling me this. "You're a good person." he mumbled and I don't get how he can change from being loud to quiet but I preferred the latter. I didn't like loud noises.

I didn't want to be purposely rude, as he did defend me, no matter how needless it was.

"Thank you, Tachibana-kun." I thanked him and quickened my pace. I had no desire to stay behind longer than necessary, because not-mother was waiting for me and I never liked tardiness, even if not-mother herself didn't mind.

"You're welcome, Himawari-cha- wait!" he cried out before I had a chance to fully switch from my indoor shoes to my outdoor shoes. My entire attention was on him and he was acting anxious again. "U-uhm..."

"Yes?"

He stammered and it was difficult to make it what he was trying to say. "I, uh, Himawa-"

A voice suddenly cut through the air and it was familiar to me. It was not-mother. "Hima-chan, it's time to go!"

"O-oh, well, H-Himawari-chan," he murmured and I wondered where did the self-assurance of his ran off to. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." was all I could say before leaving the shoe rack.

. . .

"Hehe, Hima-chan, was that a love confession?" not-mother asked me, grinning from ear to ear as she held my hand. "So young and already having the boys wrapped around your finger!" she giggled.

"Not at all." I said tonelessly while matching my steps with her strides.

"Aw, why not?"

I observed the road ahead from the pavement we were walking on. Honking cars, blinking lights and other pedestrians. They represented what would never come to my awareness, because their existence would never matter to me. Just like school, those animal girls who tried to make me cry, the teacher who tried to be the peacemaker and the boy from before who came to my defense.

Just like the not-mother who I cannot come to love because I didn't know how.

"In the end," I say as I inhale in the spring air. It felt suffocating and heavy, like cold mountain air. "They are not my priority in life."

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter just wrote itself, because I couldn't stop writing it even though I need to sleep now. xD Also, there is a cover for this story, so yay! :D At least there isn't an "empty feeling" to it anymore, or maybe that's just me, haha. Now, time to live up to my username by actually going to sleep, since it's 4am+ right now.

Thanks to **Guest (guest)**, **Nythtak, Peter King** and **Oreopower** for reviewing the last chapter. It makes me happy to read them!


	4. My Only Sunshine

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the song (or more specifically, the four lines of the song) used in this chapter.

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**4\. My Only Sunshine  
**

* * *

I never understood why names were treasured dearly.

Names were letters strung together to form a word to address or refer to something. These glorified garbled speech were actually to just acknowledge that this particular non living or living thing existed. Sometimes, names were needed to remember a person and sometimes, a name was needed for a person to truly be a person.

In the end, there was nothing special about having a 'meaningful' name or what characters you used to form your identity.

My new name was no different.

Kurosawa Himawari, my surname written as 'black' and 'swamp' while my first name written as 'sunflower'.

It was the name written on my birth certificate since the day I was born. It allowed me to draw breath and be accepted by other living creatures. Just like a branded handbag, I needed a name to ascertain my human worth and rights, or else no one would notice or want me.

If I had no name, I was less than human.

If I had no name, I was not considered a human.

If I had no name, I was not allowed to exist.

If I had no name, I shouldn't even be alive.

Yet, having a name was like wearing a dog's collar. One wrong move and you get pulled with the noose wrapped around your neck but if you did good, you were praised. They were nothing but shackles that dug into your skin and marked your soul. To distinguish, to prove one's distinction from the sea of faceless men and women, but in exchange, you must present yourself to the world like a branded animal. They were nothing but words that allowed movement and assurance, but names were a double-edged sword.

It hurt, but it held power over others. Names were an illusion, as they were an ingenious system that kept order and the society we lived in running smoothly. How humorous, that names were the ones who owned humans, not the other way around.

I knew names were necessary but I didn't understand why names were so important to people, because we had no need to be unique from one another. We were the same as the grains of sand of a beach. All of us are similar and so easily swept by waves. So easy to replace, easy to be separated, so easy to disappear.

But then it made me wonder; if an individual was not human without a name, would I exist in the eyes of not-mother if I had no name?

Would she still love me?

_Love_, **love,** love. There it is again.

I fear of being unable to love her and I fear of her losing love for me.

She loved me because I am her _daughter,_ her _precious baby girl,_ her _little darling_. She loved me, because we shared a parent-and-child relationship. In a sense, I owner her because she was **mine mine mine** and she owned me, because she gave me life. In her eyes, I am the wingless angel she has crafted through tears, pain, flesh and blood in her prison. I am the product of the union between her and the father I never knew, just like back then. I am the proof and reminder of the missing man who whispered affection and devotion into her ear.

I am her 'Hima-chan' and she is my 'not-mother'.

But I fear our relationship, as all relationships needed reciprocation from the parties involved.

I could not love her, therefore I could not return the love she has given me.

I wanted to ask her, to be certain of her love for me, but I couldn't. It was stupid of me to think to ask, because if I was not 'Kurosawa Himawari', I was not hers. If I was not hers, there was no reason for her to love me, because I would not be a part of her life. Therefore, she would not love me.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid girl_, a voice taunted in my head. It sounded like a washing machine and a blender combined together to form a disastrous cacophony. It felt like the inner parts of my ears were getting picked and disturbed._ Even if you are her's, she'll never love you, just like you'll never love her. Just like your mother who used you and never loved you._

"Mother," I blurted out and I didn't know why there were hands in my stomach, tracing the creases of my intestines, scratching the lining and caressing the inner walls. I felt repulsed enough to want to use a knife to dive into myself and remove the intrusions. These unknown hands were foreign, dirty and everything I detested. "Do you love me?"

She looks surprised. I'm surprised as well by my nervous slip and sudden hesitancy.

_Don't you remember?_, it continues to jeer. Something in me was trying to trap and torment me. _She stopped, so she could leave you._

"Oh, Hima-chan, you know you're the light of my life." not-mother sits beside me and holds me in her embrace. It was warm and fuzzy, like wearing a comfortable sweater to protect myself against the vicious cold. I lean in until I my head was on her lap, feeling terribly drowsy. I don't know why she thought I needed to be comforted physically, but I don't protest. It was hard to do so when you had no will to fight against it.

"I can't not love you," she spoke softly while carding her fingers into my wavy hair and across my scalp. I felt like I was melting into a pile of goo. "What brought this on?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I laid soundly on her lap, enjoying her touch and the silence of the living room. This name was not important, but it held the love and identity not-mother has given me. I may not see the need to cherish names, but I will hold onto it tightly, so it would never be lost or forgotten.

"I'll never stop loving you."

This name symbolized the ownership of her over me, just like the names of all children given by their parents.

"Hima-chan, you're my only sunshine." my mother smiled and gazed at me lovingly. "Without you, I'd be lost."

Without this name, I could not live in this moment.

My eyes flutter shut as I listen to not-mother sing. All I wanted to do now was to curl and sleep.

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..._"

"_You make me happy when skies are grey..._"

But whether I had this name or not, I existed.

"_...You never know, dear, how much I love you,_"

"_Please don't take my sunshine away..._"

If this name was the only reason she loved me, so be it.

. . .

Just like grains of sand, not-mother was swept away into the sea forever and I was swept under by the rest.

It was the first and last time I called her 'mother'.

* * *

**A/N**: Four is actually considered an unlucky number in Chinese culture, because four and death sound the same. So that's why this chapter had a foreboding end. xD Also, to answer whether or not Himawari will interact with the canon cast; you'll just have to wait to find out. x)

Thanks to **Nythtak**, **hairane**, **Guest**, **AvatarNIX** and **TenraiTsukiyomi** for reviewing the last chapter!

To the **Guest** (since I can't PM you); this is related to TG but the action isn't coming until future chapters and what the summary meant by "knows nothing about TG" is that Himawari doesn't know about the world she reincarnated into. ^^ Hope that clears up the confusion.


	5. Under the Tree

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

* * *

**5\. Under the Tree  
**

* * *

Time goes by in a blur, like watching scenery through a window of a moving car. I don't really keep track of it, because it's so easy to forget what day it is or how long it's been. Time is like newspapers – you don't read them because it doesn't really come to mind. Days, weeks and the happenings of the world are the things I don't concern myself with.

But one day, something catches my eye.

It was during breakfast and it was one of those rare mornings where not-mother switched on the television and had the news channel playing. I wasn't paying attention at first because I was more focused on my grape jam-slathered toast and how the crumbs scattered all over the plate when I took a bite out of the crunchy food. The television wasn't particularly loud because not-mother knew I hated loud noises, so the babbles faded way into the background until I couldn't comprehend a single word and only had the crunching noises for company.

"-the body that was found were missing two limbs and the head," I overheard and looked up from my plate. The man that was talking was balding and he looked very wrinkly and tired in the tight formal suit he was wearing. At the bottom left corner of the screen, I saw a pictured that was censored, but I could tell that there was blood and bits in it. "The ghoul has yet to be identified, but so far efforts have been-"

Then the television blinked and the screen was no longer filled with talking and pictures. It was a dead as a corpse could be.

"Shouldn't have switched on the TV today, showing such nonsense..." my mother muttered under her breath. Her tone seemed to be filled with vehemence, which was a first. "Oh, Hima-chan." she finally noticed me staring at her blankly and she cleared her throat. For what, I wasn't sure.

"... is murder counted as nonsense?" I inquired curiously. I don't think news channels are paid to feed 'nonsense' to the masses, but maybe I was wrong. In any case, that's why I was asking. "Is it or is it not?"

Judging by the way her eyes widened slightly and her mouth formed a small circle, not-mother was horrified that I mentioned something so dark. She blinked a few times, exhaled in and out to calm herself and looked at me in the eye. This is what I liked about not-mother. She didn't hurt me when I asked about something and would answer to the best of her abilities.

"Hima-chan," she said mournfully as if I kicked a puppy out of my way. I don't kick puppies and didn't see why people didn't like seeing puppies being kicked aside. "You're so young, but I have to tell you... well, it's for the best, because you need to know sooner or later anyways."

"There are these beings called ghouls and they..."

By the time not-mother finished explaining, I think it's strange how ghouls are treated like a wild animal that needed to be put down and how they were seen as nothing but vicious, man-eating monsters. The public painted an ugly picture of them that they loved to hurt humans and ate them to fulfill a 'sick pleasure' only inherited by ghouls. But weren't they just eating humans to live, like how we ate chickens and pigs? Humans bred animals and led them to the slaughterhouse to be made into our food. We also hurt animals, so we could use them as our sustenance and survive.

I didn't understand what was so different between ghouls and humans.

I told not-mother that and she frowned at me.

"Don't pity them, Hima-chan." she told me gently as she finished the last braid and tied it with a red ribbon. "They're monsters."

When she dropped me off at the school gate and when I was greeted cheerfully by the boy from before, I couldn't let go of the thought that not-mother was wrong.

Or was I the one who was wrong, to sympathize with them?

For the rest of the day, I could not stop my mind from wandering to this again and again.

. . .

I liked to fold origami.

It was fun, challenging and it served as a great distraction. It was also a quiet and non-strenuous activity, which was good because I didn't like to make noise nor did I like to jump or run around too much. Not-mother also bought me paper and origami guidebooks whenever I asked instead of telling me that I was wasting money. In fact, she encouraged me to continue my hobby, because it was 'productive'.

What I liked the most about origami was being able to fold any kind of flowers.

Flowers were pretty, but real ones wilted sooner or later and they would become really ugly. Paper ones, on the other hand, wouldn't wilt and would stay beautiful forever. It was as if I gave eternal life to these flowers, because I was the one who made them and they didn't wilt away like real flowers. They were ageless and they remained they way they were as I first folded them.

When I told not-mother that, she smiled at me and replaced the flowers inside the house with my paper flowers, which was for the best because we wouldn't need to water them at all. Only the garden outside was untouched because it belonged to not-mother and I was taught countless of times not to steal from another person. Stealing was bad and a sin and my mother used to tell me if I stole even the most valueless object, I would be dragged into a place called 'hell'. I don't know what or where hell is, but I think I wouldn't like to go there, because mother used to tell me that there was a large horned red man who would laugh about pain and fire that was impossible to put out.

Since I folded flowers constantly, the house was already filled with my paper flowers. Even so, I thought I should continue making them and collect them instead of stopping even though I ran out of color paper. There wasn't many things I needed to do, since the system taught me most of what I know. That's why I wasn't struggling in any subjects at school. Other than that, there wasn't much else that I liked to do anyways, because my focus was solely on origami now. My last focus was learning different ways to speak and I already completed it. The reason I had developed a single-minded focus was due to the lay-on-the-sofa-man who advised me that I should only do one thing at a time, or else I wouldn't do my best.

I checked the digital wristwatch not-mother insisted on giving me and it told me the time, which was 2.51pm. According to my watch, today is a Monday. On the first days of every week, not-mother wasn't able to pick me up until five o' clock. She would always remind that I should stay within school grounds until she came, but I still left it in favor of the nearby park. I didn't like being in school, where there were nosy teachers who would always try to make a conversation and the loudness of the students who stayed back. They always broke my concentration and since I didn't like it, I decided to pursue an isolated environment.

That's why I went to the park. At this time, almost no one would be here.

Once I found a spot that would cover me from the hot sun and hide me away from others, I went there and under one of the large trees, I sat down. I didn't mind if my dress got a little dirty, because not-mother could wash it later. It wasn't as if the park was filthy either, because there were cleaners and not many littered in this area.

While I was folding my fourth kusudama chrysanthemum, I heard rustling from the bushes. Since I was much more focused on what I was trying to make, I tuned out it out. Then I couldn't ignore it anymore because I felt eyes on me, causing me to feel uncomfortable and snap out of my focus.

I finished the last fold and stared back at source. "What do you want?" It was two boys around my age or younger, most likely brothers because of their shared looks, wearing nearly identical clothing. They looked tense and scared.

"_Gēgē, wǒ bù míngbái tā zài shuō shénme..._" the boy with the circle patterned shirt said tonelessly. He hid behind the other boy, looking at me fearfully. "_Tā bù shuō wǒmen de yǔyán..._"

"_Dāngrán bùshì, xiǎodì._" replied the boy with the square patterned shirt. He was putting on a brave face to protect the other, I think. "_Wǒmen zài rìběn, ér bùshì wǒmen de jiāyuán._"

I didn't know why they weren't speaking the main language if they were staying here. But they were intruding in my space, therefore I had to settle this quickly. I want to finish all the paper I have left, so I could ask not-mother to buy more for me.

"_What do you want?_" I reiterated my question from before. I didn't care if I was being rude. "_If you don't want anything, go away._" I hissed at them.

The two boys stared at me in surprise and shock, which quickly changed into relief despite my blatant discourtesy. Their timidity melted away and they became more confident as they spoke to me in what they deemed earlier as 'their language'.

"_We were waiting here to pass time._" the circle shirt responded and came out from his brother's shadow. He walked towards me. "_There was no one here until we saw you, so we thought we could..._"

The square shirt tugged the other before he came into my personal bubble, effectively interrupting his movements. He suddenly looked reluctant again. He wore a frown and shifted his eyes away from me.

"_Let's go back, little brother._" the big brother pulled his little brother back. "_Remember why?_"

"_... okay, big brother._" the little brother sighed dejectedly while throwing a pitiful gaze at my direction.

I tilted my head. I thought names were treasured by everyone but me. Names were an identity and a symbolization of parents' ownership over their children. They were special and everyone, whether they loved or hated theirs, had a name. I didn't remember names but I understood they were important, in a way.

How they referred to each other was similar to what I did, because I did not need to commit names to memory.

Realization hit me and I knew that these boys had no parents, because when mother went to the very same place she warned me about, no one called me anything else other than 'that girl, 'brat' or 'kid'. Those people could not see me as a human, but an alien wearing human skin they didn't know how to converse with.

These two were nameless because that relationship was lost or severed.

"_Wait._" I interrupted them before they had a chance to leave. They twisted around to face me. "_You two don't have names._" I stated blankly.

They looked at me like I was mad. It didn't bother me at all.

"_We don't._" the older brother confirmed bluntly. He didn't look resentful, but resigned at the fact. I wonder why he was like that. "_We don't deserve it, because we're spawns of scum._"

For once, I promised something to another person other than mother and not-mother.

"_Come back tomorrow, right here._" I stood up from my spot, dusted the dirt off my dress and took my four red kusudama chrysanthemums with me. Then I passed two to them, one for one person, which they took doubtfully in their hands. It was a token of friendliness. Maybe. I didn't really know what I was doing anymore. "_I'll give you two a name._"

The little brother cradled the gift to his chest, in awe that a stranger had given him something nice and fear that it would disappear if he didn't keep watch on it. The older brother looked puzzled at why he was suddenly given something without charge.

"_Why?_"

How strange of me.

I didn't know either.

"_You are the tiny grains of sand swept away by the merciless waves,_" I answered candidly. It didn't matter if they could not recognize the danger they were in if they had no name. I have discerned the future danger for them and I will avert that fate.

"_It is only right that if I find you, I return you to the beach._"

At least I forgot all about the morning conversation with not-mother.

* * *

**Translations**:

**Gēgē, wǒ bù míngbái tā zài shuō shénme **= Older brother, I don't understand what he's/she's saying.**  
**

**Tā bù shuō wǒmen de yǔyán** = He's/she's not speaking our language.

**Dāngrán bùshì, xiǎodì** = Of course not, little brother.

**Wǒmen zài rìběn, ér bùshì wǒmen de jiāyuán** = We are in Japan, not in our homeland.

**A/N**: The four Chinese parts were just to emphasize that they were not speaking Japanese. xD Originally, I thought of putting their entire conversation in Chinese (pinyin to be exact), but decided against it because it would be so troublesome to scroll back and forth just to see the translations. It would also be kinda pointless, because I'm writing this fic in English, so other languages' appearance should be as minimal as possible. I used Google Translate, because I don't actually know Chinese haha, so I'm sorry if there's something wrong.

Kusudama chrysanthemums are pretty cool; go google them if you want to know how they look like. x)

As for why Himawari knows Chinese, check the six paragraph after the line break if you didn't catch it. I hinted something there. :)

Thanks to **AvatarNIX**, **kingsredcrown** and **MajesticHippo** for reviewing the last chapter!

To the **Guest;** Thanks and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)


	6. Free Will and Rules

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

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**6\. Free Will and Rules  
**

* * *

As I was walking towards the school gate to exit the school grounds, I was stopped by a loud voice bellowing my name behind me.

"Wait up, Himawari-chan!" someone shouted and I had no choice but to turn around, or else I'd be accused of being rude.

I normally don't recognize voices easily, as I barely remember the faces and names of people, but Tachibana has been a constant presence since the teacher held me back in class and inquired about me allegedly bullying three girls my age. I still don't understand why he tried to defend me, but not once have I asked him the reason behind his actions. It doesn't seem worth my time to do so and I have no curiosity on why he did such a thing.

I can't tell whether his presence is welcomed, or unnerving to me. I know he means well, but the volume of his voice caused by the capacity of his lungs makes my ears ring uncomfortably and sometimes painfully.

As for why I knew it was him... it's hard not to be able to recognize him when he seems to be wherever I go now.

Tachibana runs up to me and stops a few centimeters away from me, panting from being out of breath. I could see the sweat beading on his forehead and the slight shiver of his limbs as he cools down. His fringe is stuck on his forehead due to said sweat and I could tell that he was having trouble trying to keep himself steady and from meeting with the ground.

I don't know why Tachibana keeps doing odd things and why he's constantly around. It's not as annoying as I should find it to be, since he never confronts me by trying to strike up an inane conversation. To me, he's just a very odd boy who does odd things.

"S-so, Himawari-chan... you... uh..." he stutters and I am surprisingly patient with his hesitance in being verbal. I wasn't the most easily approachable person, because I made it that way. "W-wanna go to the playground with the others?!" he shouts again and I had to stop myself from flinching at the sudden increase in noise.

Also, was he asking a question, or was he making a statement?

Either way, I would decline. As politely as I could. "No thank you, Tachibana-kun." I gave a slight, short bow before twisting around to leave. The outside was only a few meters away.

A hand shoots out to grab me and I stop in my steps before I fall down from the shift in momentum. The hand, which was slightly larger than mine, had seized my bony wrist, holding it as tight as as a strangle around the neck. I tilted my head slightly, looking at him in the eye. I didn't like contact that weren't initiated by me, though not-mother was an exception to my particular pet peeve.

"Is there something you would like to say?" I asked with a downward tilt of my lips. Now he was just being a pest, just like those ridiculous animal-themed girls. If what I thought about him was wrong, he can't expect me to remain civil towards him anymore. Not when he invaded my space and gripped my wrist like I was a rag doll that didn't know what pain was.

"A-are you sure?" he mumbles, unsure.

His hesitance is no longer tolerable as what little patience I had since the beginning of this conversation runs out as fast as sand slipping through fingers. If he took too much of my time, I would be late. I didn't like being late and if I was late, I would be breaking my promise. Breaking words were the same as breaking things. I hated it as much as I hated wilted flowers.

"I don't want to go, because I would have nothing to do there." I reason, purposely omitting another part.

He was unimportant and he didn't need to know every single, little thing about what I did in my free time. I didn't even know the boy beyond his name and oddness and they were as meaningless to me as the rest of the sea of people. Worthless, worthless, worthless. Like all the faceless I have seen.

"Well, y-you can just sit somewhere and, um, do your thing. Your origamis." Tachibana attempted to sway me to change my decision, but I've never been the type to do so. If I wanted to do something my way, then I would do it just like that. "You don't need to play w-with the rest of us."

I couldn't help it — I stared. Now he was just being completely imbecilic. He had just contradicted himself in less than five minutes.

"The point of you inviting me is to make me socialize with the rest." I stated while glaring at him. I don't usually associate myself with an emotion as ugly and hot as anger, but he was being so pig-ignorant that all my walls fell apart. If anger was a color, it would be a blazing red. Coincidentally, it was the color of my dress today. "Since I don't want to, then what's the point if I go? I like my silence away from the chaos."

He recoiled as if burnt with hot water, seemingly hurt from my words. I just wish he let go of my wrist when he jerked back, but apparently, his hold was tighter than before.

Then he gulped. "It's not okay to be alone all the time, you know that, right, Himawari-chan?" This time, it's free from verbal mangles. So he can talk without his tongue caught by the metaphorical cat. "You're a nice girl and you can't just- just go away like that. Aren't you scared?" his tone is grim and it just adds itself into the list of things I find as odd for Tachibana.

"No." I responded without batting an eye, snatched my hand from his grasp and walked away. I don't know what I was saying no to, but there was a time and place for everything. This was neither the time or place for this hypocritical idiot to stop me from leaving.

It was my choice, not his.

He had no right to try and change what I wanted.

. . .

Just as I promised, I was going to the park and wait for the two nameless brothers.

Actually, I didn't like making promises, because no promises meant that I didn't need to uphold anything. I think it's very irritating to be obligated to do something for someone else no matter the cost, because of a bothersome exchange of words that somehow seals a deal. To make a promise is to give a part of yourself away and I didn't like giving anything away without a good reason of my own.

But I found them, so I needed to return them. If they didn't have a name, I would give them one. Names symbolized ownership of parents over their children, but if their parents are dead or missing, then it doesn't matter where the name comes from, I suppose. After all, the only uses of names, other than ownership, is to be like everyone else, so you could safely exist.

When I reached my sixth red camellia, I saw the two of them from the corner of my eye, wearing matching jackets. They looked the same as yesterday — the same messy, uncombed dark brown locks, twitchy behavior, an air of uncertainty around them and an undertone of fear. Eyes darting left and right, it was as if they were expecting a worse fate to befall on them than being nameless. To be truthful, I didn't know what was worse than being not allowed to exist like everyone else. Dying was less scary than inability to show your legitimate proof of existence and being categorized as a non-living thing.

I think it was scarier, being able to breathe if you couldn't move or talk. I disliked needless interaction and kept exchanges with others as minimal as possible, but to be a living object... I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

"Hello." the younger boy greeted shyly. I remember that he was the one who was less guarded than his brother. "You really... came." He looked absolutely joyful that I was sitting at the exact same spot doing my origami. I'm not surprised that he expected my words from yesterday to be an empty promise, or some sort of pointless lie some adults tell children.

"I promised." I inclined my head. Now I'm not sure what to say anymore, as I've never really interacted with children my age. Or anyone, really. I like to keep to myself. Talking to others with no particular purpose or interest was such a chore. "Sit down." I had folded the last pointed part of my paper camellia and used my free hand to pat the ground beside me.

The younger one looked ready to leap forward to where I had wordlessly suggested, but the older one had seized his younger brother by the collar and sat down in front of me. I guess I was being too informal with them.

"What do you actually want?" the older one asked me warily. He narrowed his eyes at me, attempting to discern my supposed ulterior motives by simply scowling and through attempted intimidation. I have no other motive other than bringing them back. That was it. "You're different from us, yet you try to be... nice. To spawns of scum, to monsters. Why?"

Phrases or words like 'spawns of scum' and 'monsters' held no meaning for me. Those were words and they were _just that_ — words used as invisible, untouchable barbs by people who could not even think about hurting others physically. Things like insults and slurs were annoyances easily batted away. Unneeded words are disgusting, overpopulated flies.

To hurt, was to draw blood and make them feel it — in their skin, in their bones, in their being. I didn't go by the "scars will fade, but words don't" bullshit. To cause pain onto another, you would need a weapon and a will of steel to see through your actions completely. If you can't even begin to fathom the idea of legitimate, actual pain that would cause wounds and whatnot... well, weapons cut, but words don't.

The people who have tried to hurt these two were not powerful. If they really wanted to hurt, they would have done so.

"Grains of sand are invisible on their own." I set my origamis aside and placed my hands on my lap. "Compared to the vast sea that creates large waves and wind that can never be lost, one or two tiny grains are helpless. That is why the world is ruled by creatures of intelligence and bigger numbers. They are social creatures and thus, are able to achieve much more than animals. To compensate our loss, we work together. To compensate for misunderstandings, we created languages. To face a foe, we ally ourselves."

Yet, this world was different. There were two categories of creatures with intelligence and number, which were humans and ghouls.

Though that was a story for another time.

"Are you saying we're helpless? That we can't do anything on our own?" the older brother scowls even further and his earlier calmness has diminished. His younger brother is trying his best to placate him, but to no avail. "So you're just doing this out of pity?"

My expression didn't change. I remained undisturbed by his growing negative react towards what I just said. The cause of his anger... perhaps I phrased it wrongly or he misunderstood.

Either way, I continued.

"No, I never implied that." I shook my head. It was most likely that he had misunderstood, as the younger brother did not react in a similar manner. "But if you two don't have names, then you cannot exist with the rest of the sand."

Just like that, there was a heavy silence in the air as the older brother looked struck while the younger brother looked contemplative. I held my tongue, waiting for their response. In the end, just like I have my choices, they have theirs'. If they don't want to accept anything from me, then I wouldn't force them. If I held my hand out and they weren't willing to grab it, then that was their decision to make.

"... it's okay... for us to live?" the younger brother whispered, in a way that was almost like saying a sin aloud. "Even though we're... scum...?"

This time, the older brother's expression softened considerably and he looked at me, his face bare of the hard lines made from aggravation. He was a mixture of hopefulness and hesitance.

Their reasons for having a nameless existence didn't matter to me, as the past was the past.

Instead, I picked up another piece of paper for my seventh camellia and said:

"You're already breathing, aren't you?"

I started to fold the edges, just like how I learned from the book.

"I'm just helping you to be allowed to breathe safely, before someone poisons the air you inhale."

I think today had been an overall good day.

* * *

**A/N**: I have nothing much to say for this chapter, but I enjoyed doing the draft for it. x) Also, the title for this chapter was changed when I decided to cut out a part to be put into the next chapter, hehe. This one's a little contradictory compared to the other chapter titles I've had so far. xD

Thanks to **Nythtak**, **AvatarNIX**, **Guest**, **maviss77**, **SmileRen** and **Moka-girl** for reviewing the previous chapter!


	7. I Am

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

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**7\. I Am  
**

* * *

"How is school, Hima-chan?" asked not-mother as she does the thing I like the most; she cards her fingers through my hair while I lay on her lap.

"Fine." I respond simply as I let the feeling of comfort sink into me.

"I made two..." Huh. What am I supposed to call them? But, I suppose, since we've been acquainted and formed a somewhat close relationship now... "Friends."

After all, that's what 'friends' are, right?

Not-mother smiles at me, her pink lips pulled upwards like a natural curve of a road upwards a mountain. She is pleasantly happy. I don't know why.

"That's great. Are they from your class?" She is genuinely curious when she inquires me on these sort of mundane things. It's nice to know she doesn't do these things out of some sense of misplaced obligation, but cares what I am up to. "What's their names?"

Once the comfortable feeling fully sinks in, I can't find the will in me to keep my eyes open. It was too much effort to do so anyways.

"No, they're not. They're brothers, separated by a year." I answer her. "Their names are a secret." Just because she asked doesn't mean I have to tell her every single detail.

She doesn't force my mouth and hands to reveal everything I own and that is one of my greatest reliefs since falling into oblivion.

Instead, she does the thing again, where she smiles so brightly that I cannot find a flaw or something that mars it. If I had to put perfection into a single action, this was it. My eyes may not be open now, not looking at her but the darkness underneath my eyelids — I can still feel it. When she smiles, I feel the warmth wrapping itself around me. I feel the light radiating off of her. The darkness is slowly stripped away piece by piece, replaced with a world of wonder and brightness that the sun cannot imitate. Unlike the sun, it does not burn and is soothing like the first chill of winter. All of it is happening right now as she simply lifts the corner of her lips, pulling the muscles and skin of her mouth to form something naturally stunning.

Sometimes, I can't help but just stay still and wonder what I've ever done to be able to have someone who can handle a heavy but fragile glass figurine, especially when I was convinced that I was going to the bad place mother told me about many times, the place where rotten eggs go and burn for all eternity. Just like how I can simply _feel,_ I can still hear my mother's wretched sobs that escaped her lips, remembering the little slips of skin peeling off and dried blood that was covered by lipstick during the day and thin twigs of fingers wrapping themselves around my neck like a disastrously beautiful wreath meant to fit a small head.

Those were the nights where she was plagued by gripping nightmares, hopeful what-ifs and drinks meant for the damned.

_["I should'ha let you... hic... die when they told me you were a... hic... pa... parasite in my womb. I h-hate... hic... you so so so soooo... much. Should'ha let them take you out like the stupid... hic... fuckin'... tumor you are. Should've listened to them when they said I would **regret** it."_

_"I-I-I do, lots and lots. So much **regret** and w__-whatever did I do to deserve this?"_

_"Maybe he... hic... would'ha luh.. l-loved me if he didn't... hic know I had a part of him in me... because he was the... hic... original and he was all I needed."_

_"I w-wanted to love you, I really... hic... did. I s-swear. Every night I read a story... hic... sang lullabies and lotsa other things... many things... 'cause you were half of him and me..."_

_"But you... nothin' but eh.. a... parasite..."]_

I gripped not-mother's skirt tighter, remembering the days when I wondered endlessly and worriedly, what did I ever do to mother, to make her loathe me so. Why she couldn't stand looking at me without her face twisting and why she often pretended I didn't exist when she didn't need me in her delusional world. Why could she not understand that I loved her and that nothing mattered more to me than her.

She had unintentionally conditioned me to avoid any reflective surface, because it was a cruel remembrance that it was due to how I look that she couldn't even look at her own daughter straight in the eye. That I was helpless to change the looks I was given since birth to make her able to say her affection out loud without flinching, bursting into tears or frazzled into a raging fit.

"You know, Hima-chan..." not-mother starts and I am startled out of my thoughts as she brings her free hand to gently pry my fingers off her skirt. I wince slightly, noticing the wrinkles my tight grip left behind. At least it's easily fixed with ironing.

"Your hair and your eyes are like your father's." She suddenly changes the topic, leaving me clueless at the abruptness of it. I am unsure where this was going. "He had wavy brown hair and eyes like the color of a clear sea. He always looked like get knew everything about you, because a clear sea holds the reflection of anyone who looks into it."

In terms of personality, she sometimes made remarks about how I was almost a carbon copy of my father whenever I did something that unknowingly reminded her of him, especially when I had his wavy hair and clear blue eyes.

According to her, he was mostly quiet, not speaking when it was unnecessary and did the best he could when it came to matters that were important or that he was serious about. He was also a no nonsense man who prioritized punctuality, apparently something that was the only reason that not-mother was able to easily follow through my demand of being on time when it came to picking me up from school. She also said that he never once did forget their anniversary and was an all around hardworking man.

But I wouldn't really know, as I've never met him before. The little things I do know about him come from not-mother, who mentions him occasionally and if she felt like it, she would tell me about him. But it's not like she goes out her way to make me learn about him because not-mother didn't put any pictures of home around the house, so I didn't know what he looked like either. He was just a faceless existence that contributed to my making, nothing more, nothing less.

Physically speaking however, I took more after her, who was naturally on the slight side and pale.

Her eyes were a warm brown shade, like soil touched by sunlight and her hair was straight and silky, like finely spun black thread. She didn't really have a curvaceous figure, but you could easily tell that she was a grown and independent woman. The only thing no one would notice at first glance is the fact that she was married and a mother. You see, she has been told by many that she looks like she's in her early twenties but she is in fact going in her late thirties to early forties.

Unlike mother who relied on shadowy eyes, apple red lips and the slow flutters of her thick, long eyelashes with various calculated quirks and moves, not-mother was an all around natural beauty and had a smile so warm that it felt like the nicest hug in the world but without the physical embrace actually happening.

I think it's rather ironic that this time, the components and pieces that make up my existence have been switched. I was no longer the physical reminder of the unknown man my mother could never choose to either hate or love solely (a man with hair touched by sunlight and warm chocolate eyes with a smile so deceptive that he had my mother's heart captured instantly, as she had told me many times), but an afterimage of the man not-mother loves so dearly and genuinely (the man of simple features who had not-mother's heart captured, with his own heart in exchange).

I am not a doll made from a desire to replace the original, to satisfy an obsession born from dreams and mania but their child, merely a child.

How strange, as I was so used to being mother's object of unhealthy fixation and ire, so used to her mirrored self. One side affectionate and the other frightening, with no definite knowledge to which is the reflection and which is beyond said reflection. A mirror is said to show one's true self, yet I knew that for mother, both sides of her were as real as they were lies. She was either a malevolent spirit waiting to devour your soul in the guise of an angel straight from God's domain or someone who has the face of a demon but a heart of gold.

_["You are the fruit of my love for him."] _

I remember mother telling me ever so softly, her voice as sweet as dripping honey, but as poisonous as cyanide.

_ [Her fingers with her meticulously cut and painted red nails carded through my hair. Red was her favorite color because it reminded her of love. The love for my unknown father, the man who contributed to my making, who was absent since before my time and who did not even say goodbye when he left like the nomadic wind. Not a word or a hint. Not to my mother and not to me. The man my mother knew — the lie she desperately wished was the truth — became nothing but a figment of her imagination of her mind that was gradually deteriorating and he was nothing but a faceless figure to me. I didn't even know his name._

_She hummed under her breath as she let her nails lightly scrape across my scalp in a perfect rhythm. Her touch was gentle, but I knew better even if I didn't make any move to leave her. The tender, almost deceiving caress belonged to the hands that let all the flowers die mercilessly, were unafraid to break skin and left the tight rings around that poor cat's neck._

_ "My love was not strong enough to make him love me fully... The fruit of my failure, you."]_

"Hima-chan?" not-mother pulled me out of my thoughts when she stopped the soothing motion. Even though it stopped just now, I was already starting to miss it. "What are you thinking?"

I sat up and looked at her in the eye, unwavering.

"I am the product of your love with him."

Mother's words from so long ago, that moment which was like a distant dream now... they still ring in my head. I let them haunt me, as a reminder that I will never know if mother ever loved me — her daughter, her scratch mark on her perfect glass figurine. A reminder that I am the ugly little bit that ruined her beauty. The reason she left the world in such a terrible and sad way.

_["Because you are a fruit, you easily decay into nothing... just like everything else. The world, him, my love, me."]_

"You loved him just as he loved you... I am your daughter, me."

This woman, my not-mother accepted all of me.

Yet, no matter how hard I try, I still did not understand how I could love her.

I could not love her.

Even if I told her those three simple but powerful words right now, she would not accept them because she would know that I am lying.

Just as she accepted all of me, she accepted the fact that I didn't know how and couldn't love her.

. . .

She forgives me.

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. **I love you**—_

I wish I could say them out loud.

I was more like mother than I realized.

Once again, I am helpless.

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**A/N**: And the worst mother of the year award goes to *drumrolls* Himawari's first mother! *claps* Anyways, we have an interlude before we reach the eventual turning point (and hopefully, that certain turning point won't be pushed back with another somewhat-filler chapter, haha). Damn, that drunk monologue? That took a long time to edit. xD I hope there aren't any grammar mistakes, because some parts were written when I was half asleep. No one said bursts of inspiration had to follow normal schedules, sigh.

Thanks for the reviews and please do leave some feedback! ^^


	8. Blood Bonds

**Summary:** I knew that humans are delicate glass figurines. So, I thought that if I fell from somewhere as high as the heavens, everything would be over because I'd break into a million of pieces. Then, I found out that you never really stop falling and you will continue to fall, until you forget why you fell in the first place.

**Tag(s)**: OC, character has no prior knowledge of TG.

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**8\. Blood Bonds  
**

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Attending school was becoming increasingly difficult and vexing.

At first, it was the same old boring routine. Go to class, listen to the teachers talk excitedly, eat lunch alone while being the unfortunate eavesdropper of pointless drivel by my classmates, fold origami and then wait somewhere desolate for not-mother to pick me up, all the while being alone in the corner where no one bothers to look. Basically speaking, it was obviously mind numbing but tolerable enough that I didn't care, as I've done the work before multiple times and I was used to other children being needlessly loud and annoying.

But lately, my routine of isolating myself from the rest of my classmates have been thrown into a wrench. Tachibana wouldn't stop following me, trying to pair with me during pair work, find me during recess, try to strike up a conversation with me whenever there was a chance and staring at me in class. It was disgusting how he tried to latch onto me like a leech and I could feel myself grimace automatically whenever he was in vicinity and making a beeline towards me. I didn't feel "flattered" or anything like what the other girls would say in a dreamy, terribly obnoxious tone.

I felt threatened and uncomfortable.

"Tachibana...-kun." I eyed him, a scowl lining my face with my eyebrows scrunched up. Recess in the playground is the only time where I can eat alone without listening to the incessant chatter of my classmates and Tachibana was intruding on my safe haven.

This was getting too far and ridiculous. What was he playing at? If it was another one of those dares by the boys where I was their target, well, for once, they've definitely succeeded at getting under my skin. It was getting tiresome and maddening when they thought I could be pushed around. If I could, I would obliterate all of them or bury them six feet under, _alive_.

I didn't like loud noises, but I probably could revel in their screams of terror if it lessened my invisible skin irritation.

"Yes, Himawari-chan?" he smiled at me and I pushed back the spontaneous urge to sock him in the face.

I wasn't a physically strong person and I wasn't the type to sort problems out with any forms of interaction, but I could give him a black eye and make him cry himself dry if this keeps up. At least the pain and incessant sobbing would stop him from smiling like some deranged fool. It was so nauseating to even look at him when he does it that I didn't even want to look at his face. But I was still a decent girl, therefore I can't afford to be rude by not looking at someone in the eye when I talk to them.

The words, 'what are you doing' could be too vague for him to answer properly, so I might as well get straight to the point. It doesn't matter what the reason is, as long as this mess ceases and cleans itself up.

"Please stop doing this." I told him off, in a surprisingly patient manner. Sometimes, I even surprise myself. "I don't like it."

But really, I never knew someone could be this irritating. I just hope he was playing stupid whenever I gave grimaced in his presence, because how can you not know that you were being in the way? If he was this stupid, then it's obvious that I shouldn't associate with him. It's very possible to catch another's stupidity, like a common cold spreading around.

"O-oh," he stammered unintelligibly as he broke eye contact with me, suddenly finding the food on his lap the most interesting thing in the world. "I-I'm sorry, b-but it's just that..." he trailed off, his hesitance zipping his mouth shut as he continued to stare at his opened lunch box.

"Just that?" I prodded, still tolerant while indulging the silence he offered. Though I wasn't going to ask twice, so he better speak up or I'll leave. I didn't have any more patience I could expend.

"Y-you just looked..." he muttered under his breath. "Lonely."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He looked at me and gulped, but braved forward in his words.

"I mean, I get that you don't like any of us and you'd rather finish five pages of maths than listen to any of us talk to you in more than five sentences," really, no kidding and basic mathematics isn't that difficult, "But- but, it's just that... don't you dislike it when the rest of our classmates don't see you as one of them? That they always talk about you even though you're in the same room as them, like they don't care whether they hurt your feelings or not."

I blinked at him, astonished by his observation. It was true that I didn't interact with class unless needed to and since I isolated myself from them, they've alienated me, thus never including me in their trivial friendships, which of course works in my favor because children are always needlessly and carelessly cruel with their words and actions.

The only downside to this is the fact that some of the teachers are worried over the possibility of me being bullied when not even one group wants to accept me during group work activities, which I have tried to convince them many times that it is false. I'd make them "accidentally" trip into a ditch before that happens. As if anyone can hurt my feelings. It's not like I care about what they say about me, as most of it is true. Hah.

Well, it was only right to be polite and civil.

"I'm... _happy_ that you have concerns for me, but," I sighed. As good as his intentions were, they were misplaced. "It's unnecessary, Tachibana-kun."

"But Himawari-chan!" he shouted, making me wince. He didn't notice it and abruptly stood up, which caused his lunch box to fall from his lap with a loud clatter when it collided with the ground. Good thing he already finished eating his food, otherwise it would've been a predicament that wouldn't be easy to clean up. "It's not fair!"

"Everything is not fair, Tachibana-kun." I exhaled. The wind was sort of chilly today. "There's no point getting worked up about this, as the victim in question isn't affected by this at all."

Manners or not, this was getting out of hand. Why was he so upset on my behalf? We aren't even friends, much less acquaintances. He was just a classmate whose name I happened to remember.

I don't understand why he was being so nosy. It's not like he was going to get a gold medal for helping me like a supposed good Samaritan. Why bother anyways? I'm sure he has better things to do than play as a hero of justice and giving people chances they don't need.

This is going to waste my time and energy, as well as make me less of a decent girl, but I have no choice in the matter, do I?

"But what?" I replied back frostily without any effort at all.

I gave him a long and mean stare, which subsequently made him shudder and blink. I could see the fear in his eyes wash away his previous daring like ashes washed away by the river. I could see the flicker of doubt and I could see the fear he has of me. Good.

Fear is healthy.

"What they do to me is of no concern to you."

"Instead, you pretend to be a hero by attempting to befriend me, by following me around for no good reason at all." My tongue clicked in annoyance. I couldn't help but feel a satisfying burn in my stomach when I saw Tachibana let the fear invade him like the rising waves licking further into the beach. "It makes everything much worse because now I have someone that tries to look after me 24/7 but only succeeds in annoying me instead."

"I... I didn't mean to..."

He suddenly looked ashamed of his own actions and could not decide what to do. All he could do, however, was stand and look at me uncertainly, loosing all his previous bravado and confidence. His resolve was wavering and he wasn't sure what was right and what was wrong.

"I," he started slowly, gulping. "I just thought that you didn't have friends."

"Don't assume." he flinched when he heard me brush him off so easily — the acidity on the tip of my tongue, coating my words to burn and bury into skin, to make blood freeze and the heart stop. "I have... friends... people I care for and people who care for me."

To be exact, they weren't necessarily friends. Not-mother is an obvious addition while my unknown father, ever elusive and never a presence in my life at all, he too was someone who made up half of me. There was also those two boys whose names I had given and although I wasn't exactly sure of their roles in my life, they counted. Included into that small circle I simply called my own, a category I was immensely possessive of, just like a wild animal possessive of its territory.

In any case, numbers didn't matter because what was the point in keeping too many potential enemies and too little allies? There was no point in keeping someone who could not give me their whole being, who could not prioritize me and make me their number one like I would for them if anything were to happen. Equal exchanges must be made, therefore quality was superior to quantity.

What Tachibana was doing...

It was so, so, so...

"Don't think I'll indulge you on your arrogance," I deadpanned. Enough was enough, as my point was already getting across. No need for anymore hostility if I could help it. "So don't jump to conclusions like an idiot."

Soon enough, the bell rang, so I stood up and left. He looked hurt as I did just that.

The entire time, he could not erase the shame that wrapped around him after I told him off. He looked as if he wanted to hide just by looking at the ground, unmoving, as if time would stop for him if he refused to get over it and move.

He stared and stared.

Anymore and maybe the ground would swallow Tachibana whole.

. . .

For the rest of the day, Tachibana avoided me like the plague, as if he would die if he went near me. Whenever I accidentally glanced in his direction and our eyes met, he would hastily turn away and move further away from me. If I accidentally touched his hand whenever I needed to collect the class work, he would pull his hand like one would after touching a substance they were allergic to. If I had to ask him something, it would be as if I was talking to a lifeless puppet with its mouth sewn shut or he would pretend that the wind was whistling past him.

Some of the teachers and our classmates noticed the obvious distance Tachibana was trying to put between us and strong negative reaction towards me while I was just me, as usual. He was much more of a bumbling fool than usual, but I did not pay any heed. I could do many things, but I could not cure stupidity at the drop of a hat, or at any time at all.

Oh well, it's not like I minded, because all the better for me if he stays away.

From the very beginning, the existence of Tachibana Ichiro was unimportant to me.

I told myself that, just as I walked out of the school gates with the glimpse of him from the shoe lockers fresh in my mind.

I wasn't ignoring him, for this was just a return to the days before we interacted on a daily basis.

. . .

In all honesty, I expected them to come back to where we met, despite the fact that we never set up any time or day for it, just like it had been for a few weeks. That day, I had silently left them to their thoughts and from then on, we continued to come back here, under the tree. Whether it be from gratitude, obligation, curiosity or all three, I just knew that they would be here, at the very same spot and the same time like always. We may not be bound my blood except for the two of them themselves to each other, but we were bound by something as equally powerful — the shackles of a name or in their case, names.

I was right.

"Hello, Ling Tai, Ling Li." I greeted back absentmindedly.

Today I was folding more origami flowers. I was particularly set on finishing my paper stack into two versions of the Kawasaki rose as all the paper I had today were red. I always thought red was a good color for roses, never mind the fact that there were pink, white, orange and yellow roses.

"Hello." the younger brother, Ling Li greeted back shyly. "I see you're making more flowers."

The older brother, Ling Tai took one good look at me and went straight to the point. I didn't need to see to know that he raised one of his eyebrows to an almost perfect art form. "Don't you go to school? You never seem to have homework."

"Big brother, don't talk about school." Ling Li chastised. He actually sounded pretty disgusted at the idea of school.

I just shrugged in response, not wanting to answer when I was in the middle of folding a part because it would break my concentration. Homework was easy enough that I could finish it quickly without trouble and help from others. Whoever who stumbled on simple multiplication and division, basic kanji and the bare minimum of English was an idiot if they had the privilege of learning all of them since day one of school.

Once I was done with another Kawasaki rose, I answered honestly. "I finished it already."

The two of them accepted my answer without protest and didn't hesitate to sit down in front of me, which I didn't mind. I didn't need to tell them to sit down anymore because they've already grown past the stage of being awkward, confused ducks. It's great that they were learning because a capacity to learn means a potential to evolve.

I don't like living beings that could not continuously improve themselves and evolve. In my opinion, they were the worst kind of things; very spoiled and a wasted mass wasting precious air. Babying is not an option and overindulging is the worst kind of sin. It was catering to a certain type of laziness that was very atrocious. A festering parasite, is what it is.

"You know, I like watching you make flowers." Ling Li confessed out of the blue. As I finished another rose, I gave him a questioning glance. He didn't unnerved by it because it prompted him to respond. He shrugged and said, "It's rather relaxing."

"... How so?" I asked, combing back a few strands of my hair behind my right ear and taking another piece of paper for yet another rose. For some reason, I could never get bored with origami. It was relaxing to do it, but I don't understand why anyone would find it relaxing to watch another person do it.

It was Ling Tai's turn to shrug and answer, but I didn't know why he moved closer. I'm sure his vision isn't that bad that he couldn't see me without a pair of glasses. Well, again, not that I minded, the thought was in my head as Ling Li moved closer as well.

"You have nice hands. Delicate fingers." he stared at my fingers. My fingernails were perfectly trimmed, no scars to be seen and there was not a small strip of skin out of place. "Flowers are delicate too."

His younger brother nodded solemnly in agreement.

"... That didn't answer my question."

. . .

Surprisingly a week after, Tachibana came up to me for a conversation. Well, maybe it wasn't a surprise at all, I suppose, since he was as indecisive as a rock. I've never seen someone with a resolve as halfhearted as his. He should really sit down, take some time to think and choose whether he wants to associate himself with me or not. Clearly, I wasn't going to do it for him.

"U-uhm," he stammered, uneasiness written all over his face as he tried to make eye contact with me and failing.

One moment, he thinks talking to me will save me and another, he thinks talking to me is like contracting the plague. In my eyes, Tachibana was slowly becoming a mass of hypocrisy and complexities I don't feel like looking into.

"Is there anything you need?" I asked, decided to give him a bit of a push. It wasn't an act of kindness but rather, to speed things along or else I'd be stuck at the shoe lockers forever, just because I had to wait for him to stop being such a nervous wreck. "Because if you're not going to say anything comprehensible, I'm leaving."

"I-it's your birthday next week, right? Do you, er, want anything in particular?" he shuffled his feet, creating muffled sounds of squeaking rubber against the wooden floor.

_Yes, for you to stop bothering me if you obviously don't want to be near me_, I wanted to hiss out, but refrained from doing so.

"No." I deadpanned.

Nothing else would be better than Tachibana going away but I can't exactly tell him that, especially when he's so needlessly stubborn. How did he even find out my birthday anyway? Well, as for now, it was an irrelevant question because for all I know, he could've asked a teacher and sneaked a look into the students' record book. Unfortunately, it's not like me knowing the root of it would solve anything.

"Oh, then..." he trailed off, shuffling his feet again. Could he just finish talking so we could both move on with our lives? It's getting late and I want to go the park already. As it was, I think I'm already a few minutes late and I hate being unpunctual.

Since I've already taken off my indoor shoes and was wearing my own shoes, I turned around to leave until it triggered Tachibana out of his stupor and he managed to pull me back by grabbing my wrist. My gaze leveled on him and I pulled back my hand like flicking a rubber band.

"Hurry up, I don't have much time." For you and for whatever this is. "I need to go."

Finally, he seemed to magically regain his courage and made eye contact with me. I was taken aback by the look in his eyes. A hot, almost smoldering fire that wasn't there before, was, right now.

Maybe he wasn't so halfhearted after all, but he is rather inconsistent about it.

"You... you're meeting up with two boys," Tachibana seemed awfully somber about it. I wonder why he knew, but oh well. "What school do they go to?"

"I don't know." I replied glibly. I wasn't obligated to play twenty questions with him nor did I owe him anything.

"Then, are they your brothers? Cousins?"

I couldn't read his expression then, but I still answered anyways.

"No, not at all."

I didn't know why he frowned or what caused him to frown. Why was he so concerned with who Ling Tai and Ling Li were? It's not like he knew about who they really were.

"You do know that they're suspicious, right?" he furrowed his brows. "I followed them and..."

"That's rude, Tachibana-kun." For once, I addressed him in this conversation. This was straight up a new level of ridiculousness. What compelled him to follow them? "Why would you even say that?"

"I mean, they were staring at people with a weird look on their faces and, and," he reverted back to stammering a little, but managed to compose him self. "Isn't it weird that you guys are so close but aren't even related and it hasn't even been for long time—"

I cut him off completely. That part sort of stung. Just because we weren't related doesn't mean we can't be close. But I couldn't help but feel the slight doubt bubble beside me and it made me want to **hurt** **him**, in any shape or form possible.

"Are you saying that you don't give me weird looks too? Since the beginning of school?"

At this, he looked embarrassed and blushed.

Huh. He was the same as that person from the house. Both walking masses of hypocrisy and complexities I didn't wish to dive further.

"This ends now, Tachibana-kun. Goodbye."

This made me take note to actively avoid him for now.

. . .

"Hello. You're late, Himawari." Ling Li greeted. He and his brother were already sitting down in their usual spots, so without further ado, I went ahead and sat at my usual place. "You're usually early or punctual."

"Hello. I got caught up in something I didn't want to be in." I said as I set my bag down and laid on the cooling ground full of grass. My recent encounter with Tachibana has left me exhausted and drained. I didn't even feel like doing origami.

"What was it?" Ling Tai inquired. "And if you want to lie down, you could lie down on my lap. I don't think it's comfortable to lie down on the ground like that." He shifted from his cross-legged position into another for me.

I moved towards him and plopped my head onto his lap with my hands intertwined together. I sighed, remembering what Tachibana said. It was already starting to be engraved within my mind _—_ even the recesses of it was starting to echo loud and clear.

_["Isn't it weird that you guys are so close but aren't even related and it hasn't even been for long time—"]_

"Are we... are we close?" I blurted out; the insecurity in my words could be heard even if my voice was soft.

Insecurity has never been something I've dealt with recently because I knew that there was no point being nervous. But it had been much more frequent back when mother died and I didn't know what to do anymore when I found out. I didn't like feeling it again at all. This is because I categorized not-mother, my second unknown father, Ling Tai and Ling Li into a group of people I care about. But not-mother and my unknown father both made up half of me while the two brothers were unrelated to me. I've never really thought about it that way, until Tachibana pointed it out.

"Strange question for you to be asking now, when we've already been familiar with each other for the past few weeks." remarked Ling Tai. "It's not like you to be afraid."

Despite Ling Tai being the smarter one, Ling Li caught on very quickly even though I gave practically no hints.

"Was this why you were late?" Ling Li demanded, his mouth set in a thin line. He took hold of one of my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Amazingly enough, it worked and I relaxed a little. I didn't even know I was tensed up. "Close or not, the two of us belong to you."

"You gave us something we never thought we would have when we came here." continued Ling Tai. He looked serious and earnest. "And it's not really a matter of a life debt anymore, after getting to know you."

"So... the two of you are mine?" I closed my eyes. That's a little... "It's a little unfair, don't you think?"

I sat up slowly, the gears whirring in my head. I knew what I had to do.

"Himawari?" the two of them asked in unison.

They were definitely startled when I bit my index and middle finger as hard as I could. Until they bled, which caused the two brothers to look away and hide their faces.

I remembered the news from a few days ago, the strange man giving out known characteristics on the "hidden monsters of society".

[_—take note that when there is blood, a ghoul can smell it as they have heightened senses. Blood can trigger their hunger or appetite, which causes their kakugan to activate. The_ _pupil turns red and the sclera black with red veins across the eye and into the skin around the eye__—]_

"It's okay." I whispered, trying to reassure them. Good, the blood was flowing out nicely. "I don't mind that you're not really humans." I knew, since the day I saw the news about ghouls for the first time and when Ling Tai said that they were spawns of scum and monsters.

"... Aren't you afraid?" asked Ling Tai.

Both he and Ling Li were covering his face with hands.

I pried his hands slowly off from his face with my own and then pried Ling Li's hands from his face as well. They didn't protest, but that didn't mean that they liked it. Ling Tai was grimacing while Ling Li looked reluctant. The two obviously shared something and that was fear and being ready to crawl into a hole to hide from the rest of the world._  
_

Both of their eyes were exactly as that man on television said.

"You said that I wasn't like me at all if I was afraid." I looked at the two of them in the eye, not backing off. It certainly wasn't normal by standards, but there really wasn't anything freaky about it. "So this is me not being afraid anymore and me being fair to the both of you."

"Now, I want the two of you to bite your own finger." they did and looked at me questioningly. Still confused and wary. "Okay." I said once I saw the amount of blood flowing out of their broken skin.

First, I took Ling Tai's finger into my mouth. Sucking on it until I got enough blood and then swallowed. Then, I did the same to Ling Li. After that, I smacked my lips together, getting rid of the tiny traces of blood at the corner of my mouth and still tasting the coppery tang in my mouth.

Ghoul blood didn't taste any different from human blood.

"Here." I gave them my hand with the two bleeding fingers. They knew what had to be done, so Ling Tai took my index finger while Ling Li took my middle finger.

I smiled.

I was theirs just as they were mine.

. . .

After all, blood is thicker than water.

Wouldn't you agree?

* * *

older brother:** 凌太 (Ling Tai)** = 凌 means "straightforward" (does not hesitate and no mercy), 太 means "too much"

younger brother: **凌溧 (Ling Li)** = 凌 means "straightforward" (does not hesitate and no mercy), 溧 is actually a deep river's name in China (Li River)

**A/N**: Please don't take Himawari as a shining example of making friends and taste other people's blood as an example of forging permanent bonds, because that's really creepy and unsanitary, haha. Also, yes, Himawari, Ling Tai and Ling Li are all really weird kids (or maybe Himawari is slowly infecting them with her weirdness) while Tachibana is, of course, the kid with misunderstood intentions.

So, this chapter is to expose some things (some tiny side plots and Himawari's personality) and wrap up some things (like the brothers' names, because I have been putting it off for a while now). I really wanted something to happen here, but hey, flow is more important, which is why next chapter it is.

Names for the brothers were given to me by a friend irl, so many thanks and kudos to her. xD

Thanks for the reviews on the previous chapter and please do leave some feedback! ^^


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